


Payback

by EbonyKnight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sherlock in Leather, Sherstrade Month 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyKnight/pseuds/EbonyKnight
Summary: Greg gets caught up in a mysterious case and inadvertently stands Sherlock up. Sherlock has a creative way of exacting revenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RomanyWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanyWalker/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. 
> 
> Written using the third day's prompt from Sherstrade Month 2017: clothing. I went with leather. A certain actor is a rider, and looks bloody fantastic in his gear. 
> 
> I've shamelessly borrowed aspects of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Problem of Thor Bridge.
> 
> Gifted to my dear friend RomanyWalker. 
> 
> Feedback is loved :)

Staring down at the body of Maria Gibson, Greg felt like beating his head against the autopsy table. Repeatedly. On the face of it, the case was simple: Maria had died from a gunshot wound to the head. They'd found evidence on her phone that she had arranged to meet an employee in that very room, though why they were meeting in an abandoned house was still a mystery. They even had the suspect in custody; Grace Dunbar, aged twenty nine, and nanny to the Gibsons’ children. He knew that Grace had been having an affair with the dead woman’s husband. They had text evidence that Maria knew about the affair and had confronted Grace, and that Grace had replied that she would ‘be there’. He knew that Maria had subsequently died, and that Grace’s alibi would be torn to shreds within minutes by a competent prosecutor. He also knew that it didn't feel right. He didn't believe the evidence his own team had painstakingly collected, the evidence his own eyes had seen, and could not work out why. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” he declared to the room at large, glaring at the body. 

“We’ve got everything we need on this one, and you’re not even meant to be here. Day off, remember,” Donovan said, joining Greg in staring at the body.

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “But it doesn’t make sense. It’s too simple. Why would she do it when she knew she’d be the prime suspect? She’s a qualified teacher, so she’s not stupid.”

“I don’t know, but standing here brooding over it isn’t getting you anywhere. Didn’t you say you had plans today?”

The morgue door banged open, and Greg turned in time to see Sherlock striding in, all swagger and confidence, and hot as all get out. “Indeed he does have plans, Sergeant Donovan,” he said, but as far as Greg was concerned he could have been singing I’m a Little Teapot, for he was dressed from head to toe in _leather_. Knowing that Sherlock had a motorbike was one thing, but seeing him in the gear was something else altogether, and it hit Greg like a body blow every damned time. “It was a suicide, obviously.”

Greg stared vacantly for a long moment until Sally nudged him with her elbow. “Earth to Lestrade,” she said, amusement colouring her voice.

__“Right, right, sorry. What’re you doing here?” he asked, only willpower keeping his hands off Sherlock’s leather clad torso. And, _Jesus_ , his thighs._ _

__“You should have been at my flat over two hours ago,” Sherlock replied, annoyed. “This was the case that kept you at work until the early hours of the morning, so I deduced that you would be here.”_ _

__“I don’t want to think about how you know what time my boss gets home at night, but I _do_ want to know why you think this is suicide when all the evidence point to murder,” Donovan said, sounding faintly horrified._ _

__Sherlock huffed and crossed to stand beside the body, studying it intently. “The crime scene makes it as clear as day. You really should tighten up your security, by the way: apparently anyone can walk in,” he advised, exasperated, dropping into a crouch to study the gunshot wound more closely. “There is a large dent in the window sill and clear evidence of rope damage to the window frame. There was no rope on - or immediately around - the crime scene, so I took a walk and found a coil of it and a gun in a bin around the corner.” He stood up, worked a hand into the right pocket of his leather trousers and pulled out a clear plastic bag containing small fragments of wood. “These were snagged on the fibres of the rope, and will match the wood of the window frame. It's obvious what transpired: Maria Gibson rigged up a system of rope, weighted at the one end, which pulled the gun through the open window after she shot herself. The rope passed through too, but not without causing damage to the rotten frame as it passed. I suspect that the shape and size of the dent in the window sill will match the butt of the gun. Considering the state of the wood, it wouldn't have taken a powerful impact to cause that damage, and a gun travelling at that speed would certainly be sufficient. The window cleaner who reported her murder is involved. I can't say how, but it is the only solution that fits all of the facts. Question him and you'll discover that he collected the rope and gun, and pushed the window closed when he was ostensibly cleaning the window. Sash windows of that age are easy to manipulate from the outside, and, given the area, it is unlikely that anyone would have noticed that the window was slightly open overnight. Looking at this wound, it is clear that a silencer was used, which explains why the neighbours did't hear the gunshot. With no suspicious activity, the rope and gun under the window went un-noticed until this morning when window cleaner arrived, picked it up, and raised the alarm.”_ _

__Silence reigned for long moments, Greg’s mind working furiously to run Sherlock’s theory against the facts he had. Unsurprisingly, things aligned perfectly. “Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. I don’t know why I’m surprised after all these years, but you’re amazing.”_ _

__Sherlock smirked cockily, but Greg knew him well and easily read the pleasure in his expression. “I’ve told you before that you see but do not observe. Now, can we leave? Or is there another case that’s going to interfere with your day off?”_ _

__“No, we’re good,” Greg said, pulling the sheet back over Maria Gibson’s body, and looked at Donovan. “You okay to follow up on that?”_ _

__“Yes!” she said, exasperated, shoeing him and Sherlock towards the door. “You’re not officially here, so I can tell you to piss off without getting into bother for it. Now, piss off!”_ _

__Greg laughed as the door closed behind them with a bang. “Well, I think that’s me told.”_ _

__“She’s not completely a lost cause,” Sherlock replied haughtily as they set off for the lift. “You owe me an apology.”_ _

__“Yeah, I know,” Greg said seriously, stopping in the middle of the corridor, hand on Sherlock’s left forearm. “I’m sorry. I said I’d be at yours by twelve and ditched you for a dead body.”_ _

__“You did,” Sherlock said, stepping close. “I was going to take you for a ride, but as it’s now mid-afternoon and the traffic will be starting to build up, that will have to wait.”_ _

__Away from Donovan and without a mysterious death bothering him, Greg suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that Sherlock, brilliant, fucking gorgeous Sherlock, was wearing his leathers, and was less than an arm’s length away. “Where did you park your bike?”_ _

__Sherlock smirked. “I didn’t. Riding from home to your crime scene to here, and then finding parking, would have taken far too long. I used taxis.”_ _

__“Then why the leathers?” Greg asked, eyes drinking in said leathers hungrily. He had always enjoyed seeing the younger man in them, and this was no exception, even if he did not particularly want to be developing an erection in the morgue._ _

__“You stood me up, Greg,” Sherlock replied, leaning in for a brief but not particularly chaste kiss. “Shall we call a little sexual frustration payback?”_ _


End file.
